"bitt" poems
Heh! Walk her round. Heave, ah, heave her short again!
Over, ****** her over, there, and hold her on the pawl.
Loose all sail, and brace your yards aback and full—
Ready jib to pay her off and heave short all!
Well, ah, fare you well; we can stay no more with you, my love—
Down, set down your liquor and your girl from off your knee;
For the wind has come to say:
“You must take me while you may,
If you’d go to Mother Carey
(Walk her down to Mother Carey!),
Oh, we’re bound to Mother Carey where she feeds her chicks at sea!”
Heh! Walk her round. Break, ah, break it out o’ that!
Break our starboard-bower out, apeak, awash, and clear!
Port—port she casts, with the harbour-mud beneath her foot,
And that’s the last o’ bottom we shall see this year!
Well, ah, fare you well, for we’ve got to take her out again—
Take her out in ballast, riding light and cargo-free.
And it’s time to clear and quit
When the hawser grips the bitt,
So we’ll pay you with the foresheet and a promise from the sea!
Heh! Tally on. Aft and walk away with her!
Handsome to the cathead, now; O tally on the fall!
Stop, seize and fish, and easy on the davit-guy.
Up, well up the fluke of her, and inboard haul!
Well, ah, fare you well, for the Channel wind’s took hold of us,
Choking down our voices as we ****** the gaskets free.
And it’s blowing up for night,
And she’s dropping light on light,
And she’s snorting under bonnets for a breath of open sea,
Wheel, full and by; but she’ll smell her road alone to-night.
Sick she is and harbour-sick—Oh, sick to clear the land!
Roll down to Brest with the old Red Ensign over us—
Carry on and thrash her out with all she’ll stand!
Well, ah, fare you well, and it’s Ushant slams the door on us,
Whirling like a windmill through the ***** scud to lee:
Till the last, last flicker goes
From the tumbling water-rows,
And we’re off to Mother Carey
(Walk her down to Mother Carey!),
Oh, we’re bound for Mother Carey where she feeds her chicks at sea!
2.8k
If Life Wasn't Such A Blade Through The Heartt,,
If Onlyy It'd Feltt Nothing Like A Fartt,,
Maybe Then You'd See The Artt,,
Instead Of Onlyy What's Torn Us Apart,,
I've Seen This Coming,,
Wishing I Had Nott,,
But That's Ok,,
I Wontt Dripp A Single Dropp Of Snott,,
Nor Shed Ah Tearr,,
Nott Here Nott There,,
Living This Life In Constantt Fear,,
Foreverr Craving But Hating The Veryy Words We Hear,,
Four Letters,,
One Hope,,
I'm Speaking Of Love,,
But It's A Lott Like Dope,,
I've Been High Off Of You,,
Feeling Like A Hitt Of One Or Two,,
But Instead Of Trying To Smoke,,
This Time I've Justt Said Nope,,
Unable To Fool Myself Anyy Longerr,,
Hoping Thatt Maybe Nextt Time I'll Be Ah Bitt Strongerr,,
But For Now I Noo Longerr Wish To Feed This Hungerr,,
This Fear Is One I Mayy Nott Conquerr,,
I Do Apologize,,
Justt Once More,,
Look Me In My Eye's And Tell Me,,
Those Words Were Neverr Lies,,
Even Thoughh I Mayy Despise,,
The Veryy Truth,,
Of You,,
Noo Nott One But Maybe Two,,
I'm Beginning To Feel Ah Little Blue,,
As I Flood My Mind With These Thoughts Of You,,
Constantlyy Wishing Thatt I Could Sue,,
The Angeles Of Love,,
Nott Justt Those From Above,,
For The Time We've Spentt On This Thoughtt Of Love,,
Justt One More Word,,
Ah Push Or Ah Shove,,
Once Again With The Touch Of Ah Dove,,
This Constantt Battle,,
Feeling Like The Snake With Ah Rattle,,
Wishing One Would Have Chosen To Tattle,,
It Should Have Neverr Been Ah Debate,,
When Thinking To Use Ah Word Soo Greatt,,
Because In The Process You Mayy Be Preaching Hate,,
Forming The Word,,
Even While Doing The Verb,,
You Call It ***
Maybe Even Love,,
But How Could You Do Soo When Knowing Nothing Aboutt Your Dove,,
In The Pastt,,
I've Spoken Greatt Words Of Confusion,,
Hereby Leading Us To This Conclusion,,
Soo Before The Veryy Contusion To The Brain,,
I've Spoken These Words To Tryy An Relieve Some Of This Upcoming Pain,,
Speakk Of The Future & Few Will Nott Thinkk Of You As Insane,,
When Truth Is,,
You've Justt Seen This Coming Once Again.......
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 2:16 PM UTC
How oft’n doth Life give ‘n take away?
Moments trivial kept and others lost,
Pains ‘n pleasures in time tied amongst days,
Of which my beating heart burns to exhaust
Born, but bitt’r, but sour and sweet, I laugh
At life which against death cannot compete
I cry, I am just flesh ‘n photograph
I’ll die, and my seasons will obsolete
I treasure my few years of affection,
Nevertheless by Life kindly given
To me, soon taken by Death’s confection
Which to keep, by treachery I’m driven
By love, by hate, I grieve melancholy
Of the world known in my mortality
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 10:01 PM UTC
I stand in that hot ring alone and bitt’r,
Waiting for my fate with no fear or doubt,
The soft ground grips my feet as I speed hither,
Searching for a path and avoid this bout.
Crowds run fast to escape my pounding feet,
Falling, jumping climbing to avoid sharp horns,
Fear filled eyes, pound’ng hearts in beat,
Red and white are in his sight like ugly thorns.
The bull unaware of what has transpir’d,
The matador sword ready, it’s stance firm and lithe
Look’ng for that soft shoulder spot so desir’d,
That bright red cape provocative, as it writhe.
Down strikes the searing steel to enter it’s flesh,
Ending the bulls rage, and love, that hidden mesh.
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 11:14 AM UTC